Recently, I pulled out three piano solo works that I attempted (and failed. Abysmally.) to perform thirty years ago. Each of the three presented insurmountable problems both in technique and in reading. But primarily in reading. I was thirty, freshly out of university, where I got thrown out of three voice studios because I couldn't sight-read the material, and therefore was forced to change my degree from a Bachelors in Performance to Bachelors in Musical Arts six months before graduation. I was painfully aware that I could not simultaneously read and play. To complicate matters, I could not understand why I could not sight-read. As a pianist, sight-reading is a basic task, absolutely necessary to be considered a legitimate pianist. I had slaved through tested-and-proven methods of learning to sight-read, and failed those miserably. My husband and I played for church service every week, but instead of reading the score, I used chord symbols so I only had to read the treble clef, which of course did not help my overall problem. So, I decided to tackle the issue from the other end. That is, I chose outrageously difficult pieces to learn, which to my way of thinking, could only help me when I later chose works that didn't look like the composer suffered an epileptic fit....
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I embarrassed myself multiple times when I tried to perform these pieces. If it had been only a memory problem, I could have fixed that. My issues ran to basic note reading; that is, not understanding (at all) the patterns on the page, no matter how much I practiced. As a result, memory became as insurmountable a problem as trying to read the notation.
The first work I attempted was the Chopin Ballade, Op.38. I had (mostly) successfully learned and performed the A-flat Ballade (Op.47). I loved the foreshadowing created in the introduction of the second ballade, and I loved the explosion of emotion when the piece turns to a minor. It looked scary, lots (and lots) of accidentals that covered up the notes I needed to identify. But it was the shortest of the four ballades, and I decided to tackle the beast. The problem I encountered was my inability to recognize chord patterns among all the accidentals. Chopin exploits the diminished seventh pattern all over that piece, and I see that clearly now, thirty years later. The question I can't answer is why couldn't I see those patterns thirty years ago, straight out of five years of music theory and lessons?
The second piece I'm revisiting is the Prokofiev Toccata. I have loved this work ever since the first time I heard it. When I first looked at the score, my initial reaction was no way. There was no way I could ever learn this piece, because I couldn't see the page for all the notes. And accidentals. Again. All over. Forget whether I possessed the technique to play the darned thing. But I worked on it anyway, precisely because I felt it could only help my reading problem.
Sound ridiculous? Like I lost some (or all) my marbles?
Yes, I agree. It was ridiculous. But then, with my inability to read and play, trying to become a functional pianist was also ridiculous.
Stay tuned....
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